


Long Distance

by allfeelingeye



Category: The Fosters (TV 2013), The Fosters (TV 2013) RPF
Genre: Jonnor - Freeform, M/M, the fosters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:29:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 11,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9319670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allfeelingeye/pseuds/allfeelingeye
Summary: A polite reminder that I don't put spoilers in the tags. So...yeah.





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> A polite reminder that I don't put spoilers in the tags. So...yeah.

_Okay, think…_

_…breathe…_

_…okay okay…this way…_

 

He’s running. In what he hopes is the right direction. The safest direction. It’s difficult to get your bearings though when…when they…

 

…and it’s dark. _Never_ after dark. _Never_. But focus…go go go.

 

_Don’t go up the stairs. Don’t do it. Remember that kid, the Canadian…the one who took a dive…_

 

He runs into an empty room. There’s shit everywhere. Dirt, plants, actual shit.

 

_Stop looking…no time…no time…_

 

He needs an exit…but the windows he can see have been boarded up. Double back? No, no they were definitely coming. Keep…keep going…

 

 _Run_.

 

There’s a bang. Or was it a crash? Some kind of impact anyway. He’s moving, into the next room. But there’s no place…no place to hide.

 

Now he’s panicking, even more than before. And…was that…

 

Voices. He can hear them. Shit.

 

_Shit._

 

He remembers seeing the guy…the knife guy. And they’re gonna find him…gonna get him…

 

_They’re gonna get me…_

He runs over to the nearest window. There’s a small opening where two of the boards covering the windows haven’t met. He can see outside. He can see the outer fence close by. 100 metres maybe?

 

_I can reach that. I can climb that._

He’s shoulder barging the wood. It’s solid. Secure. But he keeps trying.

 

Those voices are closer though. He thinks he can hear a laugh…

 

_Come on…come onnnnn…._

A piece comes loose. He kicks it out. The gap…he can’t fit through that. He kicks at more of the wood. Another piece comes loose. He’s pulling with his hands, cutting into them. He doesn’t realise though. He needs to get out.

 

And then it’s loose. And he can kick it out. And now…if he can just squeeze through…

 

“HEY! There you are!”

 

He’s halfway through the gap, and they’re charging towards him. He’s not…shit…

 

_My sleeve…fuck…_

It’s caught on some splintered wood. It’s slowed him down.

 

They have him. Hands on him. Dragging him back in.

 

They throw him on the floor. As he scrambles to get up one of them kicks him hard in the ribs.

 

“Where the fuck you think you’re goin’?”

_It’s him…not…no…_

The knife guy is there. But it’s not him that he’s focused on. It’s another guy. They all know who he is. And he’s…

 

_…no…please…_

 

“N-No…no…pleeeeeeease…”


	2. 1+3+1+2+1+3+6 = 9

When he thought about it, actually sat down and worked it out, he realised how quickly it had gone. The time. The time _he’d_ been gone.

 

When you think about something every day, worry about something every day, shouldn’t time move more slowly? The phone calls, the text messages, the checking of emails, distracted days, sleepless nights, the constant worry that hasn’t really gone away…

 

Then there was that period where he was expecting him to show up on his doorstep. That’s what they all thought in that first week. That he would turn up there. It made sense, because, honestly, where else would he go?

 

But that’s the question really…where else would he go. Or, more accurately, where else did he go? Because he didn’t go _there_ , not like they all thought.

 

And so the hope and expectation turned to…sadness, some kind of acceptance maybe.

 

A day became three, then it became a week, then two, and pretty soon a month had gone by. Three months becomes six, and when he sat down one Saturday afternoon and really thought about it…nine months. He’d been gone nine months. And in that time not a peep. Nobody had seen him. Nobody had heard from him.

 

Technically it had been longer for him, of course…longer since he’d spoken to him. Since they’d spoken to each other. And now he would toss over in his mind images of him being…alone…scared…hurt…even dead.

 

And he just couldn’t, for the life of him, imagine where he would have gone. Nobody could.

 

And that was the point. That’s what _he_ wanted.


	3. Found, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mature content blah blah.

He’s been staring at the light from outside for a while. Through the gap he’d made when he broke the wood off. Not sunshine, but…daylight at least.

 

He doesn’t have his watch on; he’d left it in his bag back at the place. Always best to do that. Otherwise it just becomes another thing that could get robbed from him. And there wasn’t much else that could be taken…

 

It hurts. More than when he…

 

It hurts inside. In his head. In his chest. And…it hurts down there too. More than when he…

 

He could get up. Go back. But…he feels safe here. Which is weird, he thinks. But he doesn’t want to see them. Not again. Not yet. But he knows he will. And what will he do then?

 

He doesn’t hear the voice until its close by. There was a 3 second blind panic, and then he recognised it. Her voice was unmistakable. High pitched, but comforting. He didn’t have the energy to turn to her so he just stayed in a semi-foetal position. She comes around to face him and sinks to her knees.

 

She reaches out but…he flinches.

 

“It’s okay…it’s okay…shhh…”

 

By now he’s crying, and she gently places a hand on his shoulder. Looking down she can see his jeans are unfastened and his underwear poking out, as if they’d been hurriedly pulled up.

 

“Come on…let’s go.”

 

This was an order. She’s reaching under his arm, indicating that she’s going to pull him off the floor. It takes a good thirty seconds to get him to his feet. He’s unsteady, grimacing. She doesn’t let go.

 

She says stuff about being worried about him and maybe he needs to go to the ER but he’s not really taking it in. Every bit of energy he has is being ploughed into walking and getting through the pain. And he’s thinking about his mattress. Which isn’t much but…it’s a constant. The mattress at the place.

 

It takes them nearly an hour to get back. He drops down on the mattress and rolls over to face the wall. She stands there watching him as he seems to drift off to sleep. A noise behind her snaps her back to reality, and it’s one of their group. Another boy.

 

“He’s back…where…”

 

He doesn’t finish his sentence as she turns to him, in tears, and he pulls her into an embrace. He doesn’t know what’s wrong. But he will. And when he hears he’ll be scared. They all will. But right now he’s got a crying girl clinging to him and he’s looking down on his sleeping friend.

 

His sleeping friend Jude.


	4. Problem Child

_Nine months ago_

It happened.

 

_Eight and a half months ago_

He went to San Diego to visit his Dad. And obviously…he had to go over there. So he did. Spoke to his Moms. To his sisters. They looked broken. Absolutely broken. They’d been hoping, and so had he, that he would turn up in Los Angeles. He didn’t, obviously.

 

He had some details about how Jude’s life had become a car crash. But not all. The family knew plenty. But he needed more. This guy…this _boyfriend_ that he apparently had. That got him into smoking pot. And drinking. And sex. And stealing. And bullying. This guy that pitted him against his family, led him down a dark path and then dropped him under the threat of juvie.

 

Connor, in a roundabout way, found out where he could find this guy. Where this church youth group was. Where this bible thumper could be hanging out. And so with a photo lifted from his Facebook page he stalked it out on a Sunday afternoon.

 

It took less than an hour for him to appear. The douche was taking some garbage out from the youth group centre. This was the moment.

 

He followed the guy down the alley, and he didn’t notice Connor until he turned away from the bins. He didn’t even get a word out before Connor punched him square in the nose. He fell against the bins which enabled Connor to punch him again, knocking at least one tooth out.

 

“You don’t know where Jude is?”

“N-N-N-No….”

“It’s your fault. You did this,” and Connor throws him to the floor. “If anything has happened to him I’m coming back for you. And if you tell anyone about this,” and now Connor hovered over the fallen dickhead, “I’ll find out where your house is and burn it down with you inside.”

 

_Present_

Connor isn’t a violent person but he doesn’t regret kicking the shit out of the guy the way he did. But even back then he never would have thought this would have gone on for months and months. And he was helpless. He had no idea about Jude’s state of mind back then. They hadn’t spoken in a long time. Now all he had was hearsay. Jude did this, Jude did that. Jude stole this, Jude bullied this kid. Connor just couldn’t believe it…how could the boy he’d been in love with turn into such a gremlin?

 

When he last spoke to Lena she’d told him there had been one silent phone call at the house (the day of Callie’s birthday, from a Seattle payphone) and a silly sounding sighting in Kansas City. But nothing else.

 

Deep down, even though he didn’t like to acknowledge it, Connor thought that Jude was probably dead. There’s just no way Jude could have survived on his own for this long. He wasn’t streetwise at all. He had little money and no connections anywhere but in San Diego.

 

In six days Connor would turn sixteen. A year ago he’d been living in Los Angeles for a few months when Jude broke his heart. It was an unhappy 15th birthday. This would probably be an unhappy 16th birthday. But he’d try and be happy. He was getting a car, a joint present from his parents. And he was actually looking forward to getting behind the wheel and going for a drive.

 

_In a different place_

“Look…I think you should go. Just so they can…check. If you’re okay at least.”

“No…you know what they’ll ask…and if they don’t let me out then…”

“They won’t hold you there. Please…for me…just go and get checked out.”

“I just need to rest…I’ve gotta work tomorrow. I need some stuff…and…”

“Oh.”

 

She’s surprised.

 

“I thought…I didn’t think you were gonna do…you know…anymore…”

“I…I know…but I need…maybe I need to…to go…home.”


	5. HiStory

“But…what…what home? I…I don’t understand Jude.”

 

He’d lied. About everything. But he had to. Or, at least he felt he had to. Lie to forget about his past. His life. Become someone…someone new. A different person. If he became a new person he could survive this. He could. At least he thought he could. But this…this life, this existence…the things he’d done…the things that were done to him…

 

He was still Jude Adams Foster. And his life was as fucked up as it ever was.

 

“Sit down Bex. Please.”

 

He gestures for her to join him on his tatty mattress, and she does. He takes one last deep breath and then begins.

 

“I haven’t been…I’ve not been honest about things. About me. Where I come from.”

 

She’s looking at him, confusion and mistrust pouring out of her. This is a boy she met roughly eight months ago, who begged her for help, for a place to stay. A boy who had become her friend and running buddy and who now…he’s telling her he’s…what…a liar? A different person?

 

“I…my name is Jude…that’s real. And I really am fifteen. And I really was in the foster system. But…I didn’t run away from a foster home…I didn’t. I…ran away…” and he can’t finish his sentence as he’s crying softly. Bex puts her hand on his. He feels cold, and his hand is shaking slightly.

 

Sniffing, he continues…

… “I ran away from my family.”

 

And so he tells her. And it all seems to come out fairly quickly. The abridged version. He was adopted. Has brothers and sisters. Had a boyfriend. How he got mixed up in smoking dope. And then selling it. And getting caught selling it and getting expelled from school. About how his Moms tried to keep him away from his boyfriend. How they caught them having sex one Tuesday afternoon. This led to his Mom, a cop, threatening to have his boyfriend arrested, and in turn leading to his boyfriend wanting to “cool things” for a while.

 

Drugs. Expelled. Abandoned by a boyfriend. All this was news to the fifteen year old girl sat next to him. As far as she knew Jude had fled a violent foster home and had no family to turn to. He was just…just another street kid. Yet he had this life…a life he’d kept to himself. But she still couldn’t understand why…why he would choose to run away. Okay, he gotten into trouble and his boyfriend had left him but…

 

…she took her hand away.

 

“I don’t get this, Jude. I don’t get…you…why would you…why would you choose this life…why would you when you didn’t have to?”

 

He doesn’t have an answer. There is an answer though. She knows what it is.

 

“Jude…this…you being here…your family must be…can you imagine what they’re going through…it’s just so…you’re so…”

 

He waits for it. He can barely look her in the eye.

 

“…you’re so selfish.”


	6. Bad Choices

He met her on his first night in the city. She was where they all were, where they were all known to hang out. So finding them wasn’t difficult. He’d researched it, like it was preparation for some kind of acting role. Here…with these people…he was sure he could make it, that this was his best chance of surviving.

 

It was the looks from others that creeped him out. What did they see when they looked at him? He wasn’t the youngest street kid but then again he wasn’t one of the older ones either. But Bex took a shine to him. What he didn’t know was that his doe-eyed staring was what intrigued her about him. Every time something would be explained to Jude he’d get all surprised or worried and she found it…heart-warming, in a way. That there was still so much innocence in him, that clearly he hadn’t been on the streets long. That look of his would fade, of course, because after a while…after those things…innocence can’t exist in a place after that. Or in a person like that.

 

After a week of living with Bex and the others Jude got robbed. He got followed into their warehouse and some guys jumped him. Took a few things from him, most importantly his remaining money. Fortunately they didn’t hurt him too much, because he wouldn’t have wanted to have gone to the hospital or anything. Bex chewed him out though, about needing to wise up and be more alert. She did it for his own good, to try and shock into him the idea that this place…this place isn’t safe, no matter how much it might seem like it is sometimes. That people will want to take advantage of him and use him and get things from him…and that he has to try not to let people do that. “Trust those close to you, Jude, and everybody else can fuck off.”

 

He tried petty robbery…food, candy, shit like that…but he wasn’t very good at it. Eric, who tried to teach him, had to tell him, somewhat forcefully, that stealing just wasn’t in his makeup and that he needed to find another way to make some cash. When you’re on the streets though there are only so many ways that you can make any cash. If, as a kid, he was caught begging the police would swoop in and take him to social services. And stealing a can of soda from a 7-Eleven was clearly something he couldn’t manage without difficulty. Another member of their small group, the older and very gay Elliot, got into trouble with Bex when she caught him telling Jude that there was a market for street kids selling themselves. As in whoring themselves out. Elliot was doing it, and did ok from it money wise. He was just at the point of explaining to Jude how much he could probably make from blowing a guy in his car downtown when Bex flew over and exploded, sending the older boy away with a furious rant.

 

“Jude…that kind of thing…you shouldn’t go down that road, man. Elliot…for him now it’s like…just something he does. And maybe he makes it sound ok because he gets paid, but…he must hate it. Look, I did it once…and I swore never again. The guy…he was…no. No. Never again. Something will come up for you Jude, it will. You don’t have to do that. Okay?”

 

He nods, looking as scared as she has seen him since the day he first walked up to her and asked if she knew of a place he could stay. And now, nearly nine months later…

 

 

…they’re in a new place and she’s listening to her friend confess that he’s here because his life, his loving family and place to live, it was clearly not enough for him. He made the choice to give it all up because he got in a bit of trouble and now…look at him now, she thinks. Homeless, no means of supporting himself, beaten up again and again by kids more wise to the game than he is, and…

 

…the things Jude did. Of course, he followed Elliot’s advice. A handjob here, a blowjob there…$10…$15…and then more. He’d let guys…have him. Others judged him, but not Bex. She understood…he was trying to survive. And if letting a guy fuck him paid for some food or dry clothes…

 

…but now…now he’s broken. Cornered in an abandoned building…assaulted…raped…talking about going home…maybe if he did go back…maybe that would be the best decision of his life.


	7. Social Status

He’s got the nickname ‘Turk’. On account of him carrying a knife, and using it. Actually, it’s a nickname with racial undertones. As in, that’s what Turks like to do: stab people. In _The Godfather_ there was a Sicilian character called The Turk who was also handy with a knife. Anyone can pick a knife up. Including the guy here, the guy terrorising the street kids. He’s not Turkish, of course. He’s got a generic accent. And his name is Duane or Donny or something beginning with ‘D’. Not that any of them have ever bothered to find out. Why would they want to? He carries (and has been known to use) a knife. To threaten, to injure…and, probably, to help keep himself safe.

 

It keeps his crew safe too. The guys he runs with. The scrawny kid Felix. He’s always scratching himself, like a dog with fleas. Looks extremely malnourished too, which isn’t surprising considering that he, you know, lives on the streets. He’s always with Turk. And the other guy. Goldie. The one that Jude and his quasi-friends and other homeless kids are most fearful of. Even more so than the dude with the knife. He has a weapon of his own, you see, and he uses it. Jude had heard the stories. And he heeded the warnings: do not get mixed up with him, or the two who run with him. Not for food or money or anything. It just…it just wasn’t worth it. Because Goldie…you see, he’s older. Much older than the others. Bex reckoned once that he must be mid-twenties at least. Based on the stubble, his weathered face, and the way he seemed to carry himself. Not that she spent too long staring. Because…you wouldn’t. Putting aside the fact he was physically unattractive it was the worry what might happen if he caught you staring. Because Goldie…he liked to take an interest in people who caught his eye. Girls. And boys too.

 

In the beginning, to Jude, Goldie and his crew were more like bogeymen figures. He never saw them and had heeded the warnings to stay away. Things were scary enough without getting involved with these guys. Then Jude met someone. Another street kid. A Canadian. He called himself Stevie but Jude was pretty sure that wasn’t his real name. They got talking one day when Jude saw Stevie carrying a large, heavy looking box down the street one day. Jude, being Jude, offered to help him carry it. They were some clothes for the church shelter that he had collected from the dump. Stuff that could be passed on to homeless people. It only took them a few minutes to carry it to the church, and as Jude was about to bid the kid a polite goodbye a guy with scruffy hair, a week’s worth of stubble and dark eyes stepped around the corner right in front of the pair of them. The guy, whoever he was, flipped between glaring at Stevie and eyeing Jude in a…peculiar way. Jude got out of there, not looking back as he walked away quickly.

 

The next morning word spread quickly. A body had been found at those warehouses on the south side. One of the cops told Bex it was a homeless kid that was known to them. He’d jumped from the roof of one. Splat. Gone. Dead. It was later that Jude found out it was Stevie the Canadian. So when he told Bex that he’d seen this kid the day before and described the guy who he’d left him with…Bex knew who Jude was talking about. What Bex didn’t know, and what Jude also didn’t know, was that this guy knew who they were. Where they slept, where they hung out. He was watching. Because there was something he wanted. He wanted that brown hair and that innocent looking face.

 

He wanted Jude.


	8. Minimum Wage

_He made this guy wear a condom. Just like the guy before him. And the five or six before him. Sucking dick is all well and good but you don’t wanna swallow some random guy’s load. Except this guy…he tried to get Jude to not make him wear one._

_“Come on…I’ll give you an extra ten…I know you’ve done it before.”_

_The apprehension he felt sat in this guy’s front seat in the car park of a long-closed convenience store gave way slightly to Jude’s sassy side when he thought “I’m not that cheap, honey.”_

_He was of course. The guy was paying him fifteen for the blowjob. Jude would have taken ten. And even though he was kind of tempted by the extra ten for a mouthful of jizz…he just really rather wouldn’t. So he got to work…and it only took about a minute for the guy to get close. And then suddenly he took hold of Jude’s hair with one hand and yanked him off his cock, deftly pulling the condom off with the other. Before Jude knew what was going on he was being forced back down on the guy and…he fought it. He made to turn around and open the car door but didn’t get the chance as two hands had hold of his wrists and then he was being pinned against the car seat._

_“Stop…stop struggling…you’re gonna like it…”_

_“Let…let me…no…”_

_It took all Jude’s strength to rip his right arm free of the creep, and managed to scratch him in the face, causing him to recoil. And he opened the car door and ran into the night. He didn’t look back and he didn’t stop until he got back downtown. He hadn’t even realised until he stopped running that he’d been crying. Standing on the sidewalk he wondered how he hadn’t realised he’d had tears flowing down his cheeks._

That first time…that’s when he realised he had changed. He didn’t feel like a kid anymore. This isn’t what kids did. Or, more specifically, this is what kids shouldn’t do. But he had to. He had to eat. He had to survive. So within a few days he was back to selling fifteen bucks blowjobs. And after that it was only another week before he let a guy pay to fuck him for the first time. And it was horrible. Painful. But thankfully it was quick. They were quick, mostly. The guys he blew and got fucked by. For some reason he was trying to work out how many…but he had lost count. He was a whore. He whored himself out. And it was killing him. He still thought…that maybe…he could go back. Get his childhood back. Or…something resembling it. Because after what they did…after what happened to him…how he was…

 

So as he stood by the pay phone holding the receiver in his hand he realised it was now or never. He had to look for a way back now or…and today would be a good day because…because Jude remembered what today was. Sometimes he’d forget about days…they’d all blend into each other. But this day…this day was special. Not for him but for someone else. He fed quarters into the payphone and hoped that it was still the right number. Hands shaking, he dialled. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four rings. Five rings.

 

“Hello?”


	9. Rollin'

“Honestly, it’s so cool. Thanks so much Mom. I’m gonna call Dad now.”

 

He gets up from the kitchen table, hugs his mother and sprints upstairs to call his Dad. The call lasts a couple of minutes, a bit of chit chat about his new car and his plans for his birthday. Connor always found talking to his Dad on the phone a weird thing. Sometimes he never knew what to say, and other times he was always worried his Dad would make it more uncomfortable by asking about his love life. Fortunately today he had to get to school so there was no time for it to get weird.

 

The drive to school was quick, but exciting. His first trip in his own car. He knows not everyone in his grade got cars when they turned sixteen so he knows he’s lucky. But he can’t help feeling like a million dollars as he pulls into the school parking lot ten minutes before first bell. He’s momentarily distracted by his cell phone ringing. It’s his Grandma. He decides that he’ll call her back at lunch when he has more time to speak to her, and grabs his bag and heads to homeroom. As he heads down the hall his phone rings again and he thinks that if he doesn’t answer she’ll just keep calling so he pulls it out of his pocket and presses ‘answer’ without looking at the display.

 

“Hello?” He doesn’t get to say anything else straight away as someone bumps into him as he stopped suddenly to take the call. Moving out of the way he continues. “Hey Grandma, I’ve just got to school so can I call you back at lunch?” There’s no response. “Grandma? You there?”

 

Again, no response, but he can hear…something. He can’t really hear too well because of the people making noise in the hall. So Connor ducks into a classroom and pulls the door closed. And then he can make it out. Breathing not heavy, but…yeah, someone breathing softly. He takes the phone away from his ear and looks at the display. It’s not his Grandma calling. It’s a number he doesn’t recognise. It’s not a California number, the dialling code is different. Once more he puts the phone to his ear. The breathing is still there.

 

“Um…hello? Who is this?”

 

Then the line goes dead.


	10. Watching

He starts watching him. Where he goes, who he hangs with. There’s something about him. Something…innocent. Naïve maybe. The way he walks, the way he’s always looking over his shoulder. But he’s always with someone, very rarely alone. A girl. Bex. He knows her name. And a guy who he has seen around but he doesn’t know his name.

 

One day Jude sees him, sees him watching him from across the street. And he sees this guy…Goldie…smirking. Staring at him and smirking. Jude is rooted to the spot, and Goldie starts approaching.

 

“Hey,” Goldie calls out, “come here.” Still Jude just stands there as this guy approaches, and very quickly he’s right in front of him.

 

“Whatsup? You’re Jude, right?” and Goldie reacts by chuckling at the fear that must have crossed Jude’s face when he acknowledges he knows his name. “Don’t worry, it’s my thing to know people’s names. And I’ve seen you around so…I just wanted to know yours.”

 

Jude is suddenly aware that the street is pretty quiet, and there’s certainly nobody around that he knows. He can’t speak.

 

“So…I dunno…do you wanna hang out sometime…maybe? I like to hang out, you know? Do you like to hang out? I know a place…a place we can hang out,” and he’s got that smirk plastered all over his face again. Jude doesn’t know what to say or do here. He just blinks a lot, and tries to mouth something. The words won’t come out. Bex, you see, has explained it to Jude. All of it. Who Goldie is. What he…what he does.

 

“I can meet you later at the place you hang out at, you sleep there too right? And we can go to this place I know. Like at 8. You’ve got a watch or a phone, right? You can tell the time?” and suddenly Jude is being coerced into meeting him and…he knows where he’s been sleeping. How can he know this? A million things are flowing through his head…but the fear…the fear is the big one. And suddenly he’s looking down as Goldie has brushed his fingers against Jude’s.

 

“I’ll see you soon. We’ll have a good time.”


	11. Timing

Running wasn’t an option. Hiding wasn’t an option. Not once he was beckoned inside.

 

The room was dark, some old-looking fabric covering the small windows. He could make out though…in the corner…sofa cushions. On the floor. A few take out boxes lying nearby. Some bottles…beer maybe?

 

Jude was trying to process as much as possible about this place, this place where he…where he was probably going to have to…to…

 

Suddenly he’s behind him. Jude can feel his breath on the back of his neck. A pair of hands touch him on the waist. And he’s…it’s like he’s breathing Jude’s scent in. His stomach churning, Jude is helpless as the hands gripped to his waist turn him around.

 

And then it happens. And there’s nothing Jude can do to stop it.


	12. Come Undone

He stays at the place for a few days. He can’t face the outside. Can’t face what he did…or more accurately, what was done to him. Over and over in his head he asks himself why…why he went with the guy. He could have run. Hid. Anything. But no…he went…went out of…fear? Inevitability? To have to lie there while…

 

…and Jude can barely think about it. The guy kissing him…undressing him…being forced to…forced between his legs…forced to take it all…and then the guy on top of him, and…it hurt. So much. During, and after. And then, after he’d found the strength to pull his dirty clothes back on, came the threat.

 

“You don’t need to be tellin’ people about this. Right?”

 

It sounded like a question, at least in Jude’s head. But, really, he knew it wasn’t.

 

And he tried, he really did. To keep it quiet. He didn’t want anyone to know. But Jude got sick. Cramps. Vomiting. Worse. So he had to go to the hospital. Bex scraped enough together for a cab and went with him. But after they gave him some antibiotics they asked questions. Wanted answers. About where his parents were and where he was living. And they wanted to admit him. There was no way…he couldn’t stay. They’d call social services and…no. So he left, against the wishes of Bex. The on-call social worker followed them into the street as Jude tried to hurry away. She tried to convince Jude to come back, that social services could help him if he just told them some things. Jude scoffed, and didn’t look back. Bex was hot on his heels. If Jude had looked back he probably would have seen Goldie watching the entire scene unfold.

 

***

 

That night Jude was still feeling nauseous, and by 1am couldn’t take it anymore. He needed something to settle his stomach. He couldn’t eat as it made him vomit and he had no energy but still couldn’t sleep. So he gathered together the last of his cash, less than fifteen dollars, and slowly made his way down the staircase and into the cold, damp night, heading for the 24-hour drug store. With his slowed pace, and the fact that the guy at the drug store working the night shift didn’t speak great English, Jude was gone for more than 30 minutes. As he shuffled along the sidewalk and drank from a bottle of some kind liquid that cost him eleven bucks he didn’t really notice the fire engines and ambulance zoom past him. Actually, he only noticed them when he got back to the place. Seeing them caused him to drop his bottle of medicine, but he didn’t notice that it smashed. All he was concentrating on was the emergency vehicles. And the place he called home up in flames.


	13. Inevitability

_He’s halfway through the gap, and they’re charging towards him. He’s not…shit…_

_My sleeve…fuck…_

_It’s caught on some splintered wood. It’s slowed him down._

_They have him. Hands on him. Dragging him back in._

_They throw him on the floor. As he scrambles to get up one of them kicks him hard in the ribs._

_“Where the fuck you think you’re goin’?”_

_It’s him…not…no…_

_The knife guy is there. But it’s not him that he’s focused on. It’s another guy. They all know who he is. And he’s…_

_…no…please…_

_“N-No…no…pleeeeeeease…”_

He dreamed this, over and over in the days after he was…after Goldie…after Goldie had him. They didn’t chase him through a warehouse. He didn’t get his sleeve caught on some splintered wood. But he knew…Jude knew…since his time alone with Goldie…this is what they would do to him. If he didn’t keep his mouth shut they would come for him. He knew this. Say nothing and nothing would happen. But as he’s looking at the flames…he knows. They have come for him. This is them. He knows it.


	14. Lights Out

The crowd was big, despite the lateness of the hour. Maybe thirty people crowded in the street, held back by a small number of police. Jude’s only been stood there for a couple of minutes but the fire has gotten bigger. Part of him wants to push forward and run inside...to his friends. Who are in there? Or were in there? Maybe they got out? He’s looking around but he can’t…he can’t see them. Suddenly, he wretches and vomits where he’s stood. Nobody near him pays any attention though as they’re all fixated on the blaze and the growing number of firefighters. Yet…

 

…stood a short distance away, someone does notice Jude. A boy with his hand in his pocket, clutching a knife. This boy turns and gets the attention of a person stood in the shadows. He steps out from the dark and they both fix their gaze on Jude, who is doubled over wiping his mouth. They glance and nod at each other and move toward Jude, who straightens up and spots them. The Turk removes the knife and holds it close to his side so people won’t notice. Jude sees it though. And he doesn’t know where to go. He’s weak and can’t outrun two of them…

 

…and then, suddenly, there’s an explosion from the burning building. It takes everyone by surprise. Debris flies everywhere, much of it in the direction of the spectators in the street. People duck, people run. Chaos. But it gives Jude a chance, a chance to move. He takes a few steps back and realises that his assailants are on the ground, but moving. They’ve lost sight of Jude though, and he moves. People are brushing past him so he weaves, slowly at first, in between them. He wants to look back, look back at the building that continues to burn, and try and see if anyone comes out.

 

But he can’t. He has to move. If they get him…if they catch him…

***

It’s been a while since he slept in a dumpster. At least this one had some cardboard he could lie on. It was too wet to sleep in the open, you see. And far too dangerous. At least they wouldn’t find him here. Jude drags himself out of the dumpster and gets his balance. It’s quiet. Light. But with no watch or phone he doesn’t know what time it is. He does know that he’s hungry though. So hungry. He knows there’s a diner across the street from where he is but with no money he has no chance. Jude steps out from the alleyway next to the strip mall where he has just spent the last few hours hiding. He’s thinking of his friends, of what may have happened to them. And, selfishly, he’s worried about where he will go now. What stuff he had will be gone. His bed. His home. He shuffles slowly along the store fronts, coming to a halt outside a small electronics store. They have a few television sets in the window display. Some are tuned to what looks like the local news. Jude’s attention is drawn to the largest set in the middle of the display. It’s playing footage of a fire. A building on fire. His building. His home. His…

 

…the headline on screen mentions arson. And victims. Bodies. Pulled out. Local teenagers. Homeless teenagers. Dead.

***

“I can’t…how did we not see him leave? He was right inside the fucking place!”

Goldie is pacing. The Turk and Felix just linger like spare parts as Goldie rages. They missed. They took a shot and missed. And now Jude…who can get them all in trouble…is gone.

“Find that little rat. I don’t give a shit how. Put the word around. I want to know where he is. I don’t care who you have to cut or whatever. Fucking do it.”

 

Homeless teenagers in the city are ten a penny. Finding a specific one? Like rocking horse shit. Unless you can find that one…that one snitch. Who may have just seen Jude? You know, the guy who needs a hit or ten bucks for a meal. Yeah, that guy. And when The Turk is brandishing a knife…who knows. People’s memories have a habit of coming up trumps when it matters…

***

He stands for a while, leaning against the window pane. Eyes fixed to the screen. They’re dead. Of course they are. Because of him. He knows this know. Bex…she was so nice to him. So kind. In a horrible world where people fight for survival…she helped him. Like the times she would find him curled up in some squat or warehouse after some guy had been particularly rough with him. She’d take him back. Make sure he was ok. Showed him the sort of kindness he’d only ever gotten from one other friend. Friend…

 

…he doesn’t realise he’s crying until he hears a voice behind him. Startled, he spins around.

“Are you alright there? What’s happened?”

She must be…he doesn’t know. Fifties maybe. Jude’s looking around, scanning the vicinity in case someone else has seen him.

“Hon, do you need some help?”

She gets closer but stops when she gets a whiff of Jude. He can tell from how she recoils that he must stink.

“I…um…have you…”

“Do you want me to call someone? Or…take you somewhere? I can tr-“

“No…no. I…do you…maybe…have any change? So I can…I just need to…”

He can’t finish what he’s saying, the tears overwhelming him, and he stops to wipe his eyes and nose using his sleeve. She fidgets in her pockets and pulls out some change. Tentatively she holds it out and Jude lets her drop the coins in his hand. He stares down at the money without counting it and mumbles and embarrassed thanks. Soon, he’s walking away from the lady and heading for the payphone next to diner across the street. He picks up the receiver and feeds some coins in. HE knows the number he should dial, and starts to. Halfway through he stops, and puts the receiver down. The coins pop back out. He swallows thickly, retrieves the coins and with a shaky hand lifts the receiver again. This time he doesn’t dial the number he should dial. He dials the number he wants to dial.


	15. Blank Memory

Connor and his Mom are deep into Black Mirror. Connor likes this…his normal life. Spending time with his Mom. They’ve been tearing through the different series Netflix has to offer. It took them a while to agree to watch Black Mirror though. His Mom wanted to watch The Killing, but Connor nixed the idea. He’d already seen it. Actually, he’d watched it with Jude. They used to do that: curled up on Jude’s sofa, powering through TV shows and video games. They both liked The Killing though. The second season was shitty but it got better in three and four. Connor didn’t want the memory though. Didn’t want to be reminded of his relationship with Jude. It was still raw, and that rawness probably lies at the heart of why Connor hasn’t dated anyone else since.

 

Connor had had a long day. All his least favourite classes at school, plus a pop quiz in Algebra, then a soccer game. Plus another weird phone call just as he was arriving at school which he, naughtily, answered as he was driving. Why did that keep happening? He’d recognised part of the number and so entered that and the previous one into Google. Payphones, in the same city. Why would anyone be calling him from there though? He didn’t know anyone there. He’d decided to let any more calls from there go straight to voicemail and he put it out of his head and currently he was trying to keep his eyes open as Black Mirror was showing them what it would be like if people could recall their memories as if they were stored on a memory card. A final yawn sees him bid goodnight to his Mom and he starts trudging up the stairs.

 

And then it hits him. But…surely…no, it couldn’t be…

 

He runs to his room and opens his emails. He’s scrolling…looking for one in particular…from…yes, that’s the one! He opens it and scans it…and there it is. The name of the city. The same one that the calls to his cell phone came from. The same city that the show was set in…

 

…and maybe…yes, he thinks. That’s it. It must be. Jude.

 

He’s in Seattle.


	16. Road Trippin'

_Ok. I can do this. It’s far away, but…_

 

Connor is plotting it in his head. He looks up the distance in miles from L.A. to Seattle. And then tries to work out how much gas money he needs. _Shit. And money for a motel or something. I can’t sleep in the car. Ok…_

He has a sealed glass jar that he puts money in. He’s actually been saving so he can go travelling after high school and before college. $5 here, $10 there. He’s forgotten how much might be in there. So, carefully as to not raise suspicion from downstairs, he cracks the jar open. $415. But once he gets there…he needs a plan. _I need a plan._ So he Googles “homeless teenagers Seattle”, hoping that he might be able to find a place to start looking. Assuming Jude is a) actually in Seattle and b) alive and c) homeless. The results that come up though…

 

…news articles about the fire…

“TEENS DEAD IN HOMELESS BLAZE”

“HOMELESS TEENS DIE IN WAREHOUSE FIRE, ARSONIST SOUGHT”

“SEVEN HOMELESS TEENAGERS DIE IN TRAGIC FIRE”

 

He skims through a couple of them. Nothing specific about identities. Nothing about Jude. The word ‘unidentified’ was used a few times. In reference to the victims. Connor felt sick. What if… _what if one of them is Jude?_

 

He decides…morning. He’ll leave in the morning. Early, before his Mom gets up. Get some sleep and get on the road early.

 

At 2am he decides that sleep is pointless and that he needs to go. To do this. Now. So he pulls on some underwear, jeans and a sweater, and grabs the bag he packed before he went to bed. Creeping downstairs he unlocks, opens and re-locks the front door. His car is parked on the street, in front of the house. Carefully, he releases the hand break and then heads to the front of the car and carefully pushes it backwards and stops pushing as he gets in front of the house next door. He’s hoping to hell that starting the car doesn’t wake his Mom, as her bedroom overlooks the street. He straps in and starts the car, keeping his gaze on her bedroom window. He waits 10 seconds, no light. He puts the car in ‘drive’ and slowly pulls away. He waits until he’s down the block before he puts his lights on, and away he goes…

***

…and at that same time as one boy sets off for Seattle, it’s in Seattle where another boy is sat outside a church. Cold. Hungry. Alone. Feeling without hope. And if it weren’t bad enough, what Jude doesn’t know is that people are looking for him. And if they find him, being cold and hungry will be the least of his worries. The very least…


	17. Needle in a Shitpile

The journey should have taken about 16 or 17 hours. In the end it took him a full 24. He had to stop a few times. And he had to sleep. Which he did in his car in a McDonald’s car park as the motel he tried wouldn’t let him rent a room as he was only 16. And then there were the phone calls from his Mom. Berating him, demanding he come home. Connor tried to explain, he really did. He had to see if he could find Jude. If there were even the smallest chance Jude was out there then he had to try and find him. His Mom told him he was being silly, that a couple of phone calls from payphones and a teenage hunch doesn’t mean that it was Jude trying to get in contact with him. Connor didn’t listen and in the end had to put the phone down, hoping to hell that his Mom wouldn’t call the police and report him as a runaway or missing.

 

He found a parking garage in downtown Seattle during the morning rush hour and paid up front for the whole day. He’d found the address of a homeless shelter on Google and decided to start there…

***

Jude had spent the previous night at the group shelter at St Barnabus’ church. He’d gotten out of there just after they handed out some food for breakfast, when the social worker comes around. In the couple of days since the fire the shelters had seemed more keen than usual to try and get people to engage with the social workers, probably in an effort by the city to avoid any more homeless dying and attracting negative attention. But how long could he keep living from day to day like this? He now had no regular access to food or a place to stay, and the shelters would fill up quickly which would mean he’d have to spend some nights out in the open. Besides the usual dangers associated with that there was also Goldie and his minions out there. Maybe…maybe getting out of Seattle would be the best thing. But with no money…he kept coming back to the same conclusion. He’d have to go out. And work. It was the only way.

***

“Look, honey, we get so may through here. What was his name again?”

“Jude, Jude Adams Foster.”

The woman at the desk types away, and after a few seconds shakes her head.

“Try…try Jude Jacob.” Nothing again.

“Okay, look…” and she types again, “The only Jude’s we’ve had through here were girls. Quite some time ago. There’s a chance he came here and used a fake name maybe, but I can’t say for sure.”

“Is there…is there anywhere else I could try? Like…a place that homeless kids hang out or whatever?”

She looks Connor up and down, at his clean clothes and good hair and innocent face. She can’t send him out into those areas of town. For someone like him, it wouldn’t be safe.

“Look, honey, your best bet is to try a couple more shelters and see if anyone recognises his picture. Is that the most recent one of him you have?” she asks, gesturing to his phone and the picture he showed her a few minutes before.

“Yeah, it’s like…nine months old or something. I guess his hair might be longer now or whatever…”

She nods, seeing Connor’s disappointment. Wanting to help him she writes down the names of three shelters that teenagers tend to use and points them out on his map app. As he walks out of the shelter and into the damp Seattle morning she feels sorry for him, thinking how desperate he was to find his friend. He must be luck, this Jude, to have someone come so far to try and find him. And sorry for him because the chances of him finding Jude are slim. Because these kids…they don’t want to be found.

***

By lunchtime Jude is hungry again, and finds himself at the bins behind a Walmart where they throw food out sometimes. There are a couple of other people there, one being an older guy who keeps a beady eye on Jude as he approaches. The other is a girl, maybe a bit older than he is, and she takes a long look at him as he shuffles over. Ordinarily Jude would have smiled but at the moment he couldn’t. Jude and smiling were done. She keeps stealing glances at him as he picks through a bag of bruised fruit and vegetables. He stuffs a couple of apples and some grapes into his pocket and gets out of there. HE doesn’t like hanging around in any one place too long. As he goes the girl keeps staring.

 

“It’s definitely him,” she mutters to herself.  


	18. Whispers

“Be sure now…it’s real important that I find him. If you fuck me around, then…”

“N-No, it was him. Definitely. He was round the back of the store, and then I saw him later in the park, the one with, you know, the things for kids to play on. He was on the bench.”

“Okay, okay…give her twenty.”

Goldie gestured to his companion, then in the direction of the girl. A $20 bill was produced and she took it hesitantly, pocketing it and making to leave. Before she did though Goldie took hold of her arm, and manoeuvred her carefully right in front of him. And spoke to her in a low, threatening voice.

“Now…you did the right thing in coming to me. Because he…he’s important to me. But don’t get stupid now…don’t go getting yourself mixed up in this…you don’t need to go talking to him or telling him anything. You understand?”

She nods nervously, never once looking away from him. She doesn’t want to mess with anything, and only came to him with the information because of the offer of money.

“Okay, then get outta here,” and Goldie gestures with his head in the direction of the door. And she scurries off, $20 better off than 5 minutes previously. Once she’s out and the door is closed he turns to his scruffy lemming.

“Get Turk, tell him we need his car and that we’re going over there. I wanna find him tonight and shut this shit down. Tell him…tell him to bring his stuff. In the trunk. He’ll understand.”

Felix hurries away, ever the willing helper, leaving Goldie thinking of ways that they’re gonna be able to dispose of Jude.

***

At around the same time just a few miles across town Connor Stevens is hanging around outside a soup kitchen. There are some homeless-looking people there too, waiting for it to open. He shows Jude’s picture to a few of them and asks if they’ve seen him, but the ones who want to talk to him all reply in the negative. He heads back to where he parked the car, thinking that he was gonna have to call his Mom and tell her he was heading back when he’s distracted by someone shouting at him.

“Hey! Hey! Wait up!”

It’s a woman he saw carrying boxes into the soup kitchen. She jogs over to him.

“They said you’re looking for your friend? He’s a teenager?”

“Um…yeah. He’s…here, this is him? Do you recognise him?”

Connor show her the picture and the woman studies it, but shakes her head.

“Look, I don’t think he’s been around here, not recently anyway. Mostly we get older people. There’s a church not too far that takes teens though. I can give you the address. They feed them, and have space to let some of them sleep. You can try there when it opens at 7.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“But look, you look like a child and it’s not safe for you to be hanging around these places on your own, you know? Do your parents know where you are?”

“Er…yeah. My mom does. She knows I’m ok.”

The woman doesn’t look like she believes Connor, but types the address of the church into his phone and heads away. He has a couple of hours to kill so he heads back to the car, intending to call his Mom and then go and grab some food. When he gets in the car he brings the picture of Jude back up and sits staring at it. And mumbles to himself.

“Where are you Jude?”

***

Two blocks away Jude Adams Foster is sat on a swing in the park. He obviously isn’t aware that Connor is sat nearby in a parked car. Nor is he aware that three people are also a few blocks away in a car, driving around looking for him. It surely will be a matter of time before someone finds him.


	19. Joyride

He sees the first one as he heads towards the church to try and get some food. It’s the knife guy. Turk. He’s lingering on a corner near the park. Jude freezes, and then casually drifts behind a woman and a child who are crossing the street. He doesn’t want to catch Turk’s attention by bolting off in the other direction. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to see Jude from where he’s stood. As the woman and child reach the sidewalk Jude slips behind a parked car, crouched low. Now he knows they are definitely looking for him. Now he knows the danger is real. And if Turk is here…Goldie…Goldie must be around too. And it’s at this point, as he’s crouched down behind a parked car on a quiet Seattle street that he starts to regret it all. The way he was. Running away. What it’s brought him and the things he’s done. Everything he’s had to do to…survive. To live. He’s shaken from his daydreaming though by some voices. Two voices. Male. They’re close to the car but…he doesn’t recognise them. The two guys walk past the car and don’t notice Jude crouched down behind it. Slowly, he peers around the side of the car. No sign of Turk. He doesn’t wait, not for a second, and moves.

 

Ducking into an alleyway he thinks is clear, Jude takes a breath. Ok, he thinks, I just need to get to the church. I can tell one of the people there about what’s happened. That some people are looking for him. And want to hurt him. Maybe get the police called. Surely they can help me, he wonders. He works out in his head that the church is two streets over, but that he doesn’t know if any of the alleyways lead there so he’ll have to go on the street. He makes his way along to the other end of the alley, and looks left. Clear. Then he looks right. And sees him.

 

Goldie.

 

And he sees Jude.

 

Jude turns on his heel and heads back down the alleyway, hearing his name being shouted behind him. Then he hears Goldie shouting for…someone…it’s Turk…he’s shouting for Turk. Jude tears out of the alley and heads back towards the park, and away from the church. Away from safety. As he gets to the north entrance of the park he sees the scruffy Felix approaching from inside the park. He freezes as he sees Jude running towards him. Jude stops dead. They stare at each other in silence for what seems, to Jude, like hours, but in reality is only a few seconds. Suddenly, Felix yells ‘FOUND HIM!’, causing Jude to turn and run back the way he came. He sees Goldie and changes direction again, heading to the intersection. He still hasn’t seen Turk, he could be lying in wait around the corner. But Jude can’t stop. He’s moving quickly, Goldie can’t keep up and he doesn’t know if Felix is pursuing him or not either. No time to think though. Just run. He approaches the corner and in his head he reckons he can make it to the church, and hopeful safety, in about 30 seconds or so if he doesn’t stop.

 

He mounts the sidewalk, and turns the corner.

 

And then he steps in front of Jude.


	20. 7 Words

As she heads out of the kitchen, mug of chai in hand, she’s thinking about the new book she’s starting tonight. Little things like this bring a bit of…happiness? No, that’s not the word. The little things…they just make things easier. As she gets to the top of the stairs she hears her cell ringing. Picking it up off the nightstand she can see who it is. She puts down her drink, and answers the call.

 

“Connor?”

 

There is no response. But there’s…someone is definitely there because she can hear something. Breathing maybe? Or…no, it sounds like someone is…crying?  She repeats his name, and this time she can hear the breathing more clearly. And then a voice.

 

“I’ve got him, Lena. I’ve got him.”


	21. Truth and Consequences

“You called me though…so…you must have wanted me to…you must have wanted to be found?”

He whispers it, leaning closely, his face impossibly near to Jude’s. Connor doesn’t want to frighten Jude with his tone, but he feels like…he needs to know. Jude though…he’s just lying there, staring, saying nothing. He hasn’t said much in the three hours since Connor…since Connor was there for Jude to run into. Literally.

 

_It all happened so fast as well. Jude coming to a dead stop in front of him, and then Connor, looking over Jude’s shoulder, seeing a couple of guys running towards them. Jude turned around, saw how close they were and stepped into Connor, leaning in for protection, and Connor instinctively brought an arm around his shoulders. Jude’s pursuers stopped, glanced at each other, and after a beat they scarpered. Leaving Connor stood on the sidewalk with his arm around a shaking Jude._

 

The most he’d spoken is when he tried to protest about being taken to the hospital. Connor had to be at his most gentle, his most persuasive. And he had to promise…promise not to leave Jude there.

 

_They were sat on a bench at a bus stop, near where they had run into each other, and Connor couldn’t stop looking at him. Jude looked very different. Longer hair, and a gaunt, almost sunken face. And he looked exhausted. Completely, totally exhausted. Connor wanted to call the police and Jude was insistent that he didn’t want that to happen. He wouldn’t tell Connor why they were chasing him, choosing to stare at the floor instead. He didn’t bother to lie that he hadn’t been eating much, his appearance clearly giving the game away. And he told Connor that he’d been sick. And then Connor was insistent. Emergency room._

Jude’s lying on his side, looking Connor in the eye. The hospital bed is without doubt the most comfortable place he’s lay down since he left home.

“I…guess…yeah…”

Connor reaches over and touches Jude’s upper arm.

“I’m glad you did Jude. I’m glad you did.”

***

Jude’s Moms’ arrived the next morning, and were reunited with Jude amidst hysterical scenes in the ER. He’d been kept there overnight until a social worker had been to assess him and his test results were back. Connor hadn’t left his side apart from to use the bathroom. When Stef and Lena caught sight of him they both virtually dived on his bed and smothered him. Connor stood watching, feeling like a bit of a spare part, and began backing slowly towards the door. Stef looked up in Connor’s direction and was quickly up off the bed and pulling Connor into a rib-crushing hug. Connor didn’t think that he would ever forget how grateful Stef sounded as she whispered “thank you” into his ear over and over again…

***

As Jude was sleeping, finally, his Moms’ and Connor sat with a doctor and the social worker in the waiting area, and could barely believe what they were being told. Hepatitis B. Likely caught, according to the social worker, as a result of Jude working as a prostitute. The doctor was telling them that it is likely they can treat Jude’s condition, but Connor was barely listening. Then he heard the doctor say that their examinations of Jude had found evidence of likely sexual assault and Connor could take no more. He got up and left the waiting area, heading back into the hallway. He had to lean against the wall to catch a breath. After a minute or so he edged his way down the hall, and came to a stop outside Jude’s room. Looking through the gaps in the blinds he could see Jude, once again curled on his side, looking as peaceful as Connor could ever remember seeing him. And all he can do is stand and wonder what on earth has been happening to Jude.


	22. In a Place Where You Are

_Two months later_

“So…they want me to go back to school.”

“Mm hmm. Do you think you’re ready? I mean, it’ll be weird, I guess, after all this time…”

“Yeah,” sighed Jude, “and…I’m gonna be a grade behind. So I’ll do like two months of ninth grade and then have to go into tenth grade while everyone moves up to eleventh.”

“At least it’s at Anchor Beach, you know,” replied Connor, trying to put a positive spin on things, as always, “and Lena will, you know, help you and stuff.”

Jude nodded. He’d been home nearly two months, and going back to school was just another step. Another of many. His medical treatment, his therapy, his attempts to mend things with his family. He tried to be thankful for everything, but the truth was that for Jude every day was still a struggle. Connor’s support was invaluable to him. They spoke every day, and Connor came back from LA to visit him every other weekend. Jude appreciated that, he knew how much of an effort Connor was making to make sure he was alright.

“Oh…how was your test?”

“Yeah, it was ok. Glad to just get it over with. Meant I could relax and just enjoy my final soccer practice without it hanging over me, you know?”

“Final practice? But don’t you have, like, quite a few games left of the seas-“

Lena interrupted them, bringing out a tray with drinks and snacks for them. They were sat in their now familiar spot in the back yard. This is the only place they ever sat together really. Jude liked being outside in the yard. He felt less…trapped. He found his room suffocating, even though it was all his now that Jesus was away at college.

“So, are you starting back at Anchor Beach in a week from now?”

“Yeah, one more week of being house bound. Guess I should enjoy it, huh?”

Connor smiled in agreement.

“If it goes well, at school I mean…I’ve been thinking about, um, volunteering. At weekends maybe. At a homeless shelter downtown. I kinda feel like…like I should, you know? After everything…I feel like I have to do something. Stef was…well, I don’t think she likes the idea. She tried to say I’d have too much schoolwork and stuff, but I think…I just think she doesn’t want me anywhere near that…that world anymore. What do you think?”

Connor looked down, considering his response carefully.

“I think…I think you have to do what you feel you need to do. I mean…I can see what Stef means. And I’m not saying she’s right, no way. But she’s…we all just want you to be safe, Jude. And happy too. And if it makes you happy…then it makes me happy too.”

Jude smiled at Connor’s supportive response. He was smiling more now. A few weeks ago smiling was something Jude just didn’t do. Now, being home, being around Connor again…

“Um,” started Connor, “I actually have something of my own planned that I wanted to tell you about. I kinda wanted to see…to see what you think.”

“Oh…oh sure, okay. What is it?”

“I’ll…I’ll show you,” and Connor reached into his backpack and produced a piece of paper. He looked at it for a moment and then tentatively placed it in Jude’s hand. Jude took it without looking away from Connor, and wondered why Connor looked so nervous. Looking down, Jude soon realised why he was so nervous.

 

Connor kept looking at Jude, even as he stared down at the piece of paper. Thirty seconds passed, maybe more. Jude didn’t say anything, nor did he look up. And then Connor saw a drop fall from Jude’s face. A single tear, and it landed on the paper.

“W-Why…why would you…”

Jude couldn’t get the words out. Connor’s breathing began to become deeper, louder.

“…why are you doing this?”

And then Jude looked up from the piece of paper, which was a high school transfer form, filled in with Connor’s details and signed by Connor’s parents and the Principals of his school in LA and Anchor Beach. Connor was transferring back.

“Why?” responded Connor, softly. “Why?”

And then slowly he slid his hand into Jude’s, and the piece of paper fell to the floor. Not once did they break their gaze.

“I think you know why, Jude,” smiled Connor, “I think you know exactly why.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos always welcome.


End file.
